


No Quarter

by samidha



Series: S3-04 Hiatus and S4 Reactions and Sundry [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Attention to Lore, Episode Related, Fixing Lore, Gen, POV Dean Winchester, Remixed Scene, Succubi & Incubi, episode s04e06
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-10-25
Updated: 2008-10-25
Packaged: 2018-12-12 19:50:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11743965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samidha/pseuds/samidha
Summary: Lilith is the premier succubus. Dean knows that very well.





	No Quarter

**Author's Note:**

> This is gen-ish. There is some suggestive imagery in this. It probably means what you think it means, though this is apparently my first ever season 4 fic and that was a long time ago. I remember being nervous to write S4 at the time. My notes for this were: If Kripke can't get over the idea of creepy little girls we'll give him a helping hand.

"Hi, Dean."

"No. No. No!" The last word rips out of him in a desperate growl.

"Yes!" The little girl squeals happily, arms going around him like he's hers, and oh, fuck--oh, _fuck_. "It's time to go back now."

Dean swallows hard and stands up. "You. You're _not_ real."

"What's the matter, Dean?" she asks, malice clear in the tiny voice. "Don't you remember all the _fun_ you had down there? Four months is like forty years in hell. Like doggie years. And you remember every second."

Her face twists, goes indistinct, and he can see the black cloud with the sickening white whorls inside that mark her essence. Then it resolves into human form again, but tall, with raven hair. Her pale skin shines, giving off an unearthly glow.

"You're mine," she says. His vision blacks out for a second. This is that terrible moment when he has to fight for his senses back after one of the dreams (just dreams). The moment right before he knows he really does have a body to come back to, that Sam's there with him.

It's only a second, but the return of his sight brings no comfort. She's still there. 

"You're mine--and you remember that. I know you do. I always make sure."

He's sure for a moment that the vision is going to resolve back into the little girl. Terrible as it was to see her appear, this is worse. This form, he knows intimately. The memories rush up, and Dean focuses on the pain in his chest, almost welcoming the way it bends him double. Anything not to look at her. Anything not to feel the way his limbs and dick and shoulders (god his shoulders god oh god oh god) sing with remembered pain.

She steps forward. The fingers that brush his cheek, sinking into the flesh and spreading fire, belong to a woman. He feels nothing but fire, but his dick rises painfully against denim. There is nothing but pain and he can't scream. 

He knows how this will go. She will have him. She will take everything, everything of him. Dean will lose himself. He will lose Sam. Then she'll give it all back with the devil's own smile on her lips just to hear him cry for his brother. Just to help him remember that Sam was gone, totally gone, because she took him.

"He isn't coming for you. He never came for you. Why is that, Dean, do you think? Why is that, really?"

_You're going back. It's about time, too._

"You aren't real!" He knows they're just words, but he has to say them anyway.

The vision doesn't fade. She's touching him, burning him. The pain is real. It burns through him from her fingers down through him to his chest. His pulse thunders in his ears, so fast. So fast.

_Sam. Oh, God, Sam. Help me._

"You're going to die," she coos, licks a stripe along his throat and leaves a trail of blisters. "You're going to burn. Just like this. And I'll be there. I'll be there every second."

Dean writhes on the floor, the movement doing nothing to stop the fire burning through him, burning the way he remembers. He remembers.

"Listen to that! Ba-boom, baby," she says, and laughs, syrupy sweet and thick with evil. "Any second now, I get to take you home."

"Not on your life, bitch." Dean pants. The air feels like it's getting thinner with every breath. His chest explodes anew with every single one.

"Dean," she says, like a scorned lover. "I'm already dead."

Dean pulls away. His cheek rips open, blood coating the side of his face and rushing down his neck, but she isn't touching him and he thinks he might see her flicker for half a second. And then he knows he does. 

_Sam. Sam. Sam. SamSamSamSam._ He doesn't care what his brother's doing, he doesn't care, because he might get out of this alive. He might.

And then he knows. The tightness in his chest dissipates, leaving echoes of itself. There's a flash of white, but it's only Lilith disappearing.

His hand goes to his cheek and finds it whole. His fingers come away dry.

Sam did it. Whatever it was. He's not going back. He's not.

He doesn't close his eyes. He knows Lilith's image will burn behind them. 

So he just won't do that. He almost has a handle on what calm feels like again when Lilith's power slips back among his thoughts. He hears the fire of hell behind the words, closes his eyes involuntarily and she's there.

_You're mine._

Then she's gone. His ears are ringing, but the roar of hellfire has ended. He opens his eyes, then blinks hard once to clear his vision, and there's only the motel room around him. He can breathe, and he can see, and when he braces himself on the bed-frame and closes his eyes he only sees the back of his lids.

It's over. As over as it's ever going to be. 

Dean swallows hard and lets himself thud onto his back again, concentrating on his breathing. He doesn't care who finds him there. He'll wait right here for Sam. There's no shame in that at all.

He'll wait for Sam.


End file.
